Believing the Lie
by Into Madness
Summary: She didn't need her. She'd never needed her. It was a lie, but it was a lie that Azula wanted so desperately to believe. So she did. One-shot.


**A/N: Hello, all! I know I haven't posted anything for a really long time, but I'm back now, and I've brought along my first Avatar fanfic! So here it is- my attempt at a little Crazula. It's set towards the end of season 3, when her mental state is starting to go downhill. Enjoy!**

**Word Count: 1,070**

**~.~.~.~  
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Azula shrieked, sounding more like a wild animal than a human, as she flung the glass across the room. Her golden eyes were wide with rage, and sweat beaded on her pale forehead. A twisted smile formed on her red lips as the glass smashed against the wall, shards flying in every direction.

_That should teach her._

Azula ran a hand through her hair, pushing the loose strands out of her face. Her smile turned into a leer as she sauntered over to where the majority of the glass's remains were. The sight of what she had done brought her a sick kind of joy.

_She'll leave me alone now._

Azula cackled. She'd won, just like she always had. She'd leave her alone now. She'd go back to wherever she had come from, and Azula would never have to look at her again.

The princess bent over to pick up a large shard of what had once been the beautiful wine glass. She held it up to the light and inspected it closely.

She had seen _that woman's_ face in that glass. She knew she had.

But, then again, she saw her _everywhere._ She saw her in anything that could hold a reflection, be it a mirror, a window, a basin of water, or a _glass_. She was in her dreams, and she saw her whenever she closed her eyes.

She followed her.

She refused to leave her alone.

She _taunted _her.

But this time, Azula had won. She had shown her that she didn't _want_ her here. She didn't _need_ her. She hadn't ever needed her, not even before she had abandoned her.

Azula turned on her heel, piece of glass still in hand. She would order the servants to clean up the mess later. She had just won a victory, after all, and it was time to celebrate.

~.~.~.~

Azula stepped out of the bath and grabbed her robe from off of its hook. She could immediately feel the difference the long soak in the hot water had made for her sore and strained muscles. She was relaxed now, and still happy about finally ridding _that woman_ from her life. She'd planned out the perfect relaxing evening as a celebration, something she'd felt she deserved for a while. The princess tightened the deep red robe around her waist and headed towards the large mirror that hung over the counters.

No, she had no fear of seeing _her_ in that mirror. She was confident that she had driven her away for good this time.

Azula grabbed her favorite brush, a gold one with red details, and began brushing out her dark, knotted hair. She relished the feeling—it wasn't often that she got time to herself anymore, and she'd always enjoyed being pampered and well-groomed. She sighed contentedly.

It wasn't until she was finished brushing her hair that she noticed a faint glimmer out of the corner of her eye. Azula furrowed her brow and set the brush aside, shifting slightly to peer into the mirror.

And there she was.

She was sitting directly behind Azula, on the edge of the bathtub. Her legs were crossed and her hands were folded in her lap, as if she had been waiting. The glimmer Azula had seen was the headpiece that sat neatly on the crown of her head. She looked just like Azula remembered her.

Azula's expression was one of blank confusion, her eyes large and focused intensely on the woman. She didn't move. She didn't even breathe.

_No._

_It's impossible._

_I got rid of her. I know I got rid of her. I got rid of her!_

"Azula." Princess Ursa's voice was gentle and smooth as she spoke her daughter's name. A cold chill ran down Azula's spine. She felt suddenly ill. How long it had been since she had heard her mother's voice…

Ursa stood and took a slow step forward. The older woman looked sorrowful, sadness evident in her own pair of amber eyes. Eyes just like her daughter's. She took another step forward, and this time Azula reacted, her lips curling downward into a scowl. She balled her hands into fists, her long nails digging into her palms.

"_I got rid of you_," she hissed. "Why are you still here?"

Ursa attempted a smile, but it still came out as somewhat troubled. "I'm here because you don't want me to leave."

"Yes, I do! That's _all_ I want!" Azula burst out. She couldn't contain it. She had been _so sure_ she had finally gotten rid of this…this nightmare!

"No, it's not, Azula. Can't you see? You never wanted me to leave," Ursa said softly, this time not trying to smile. "That's why you can't let me go."

"I don't want you here! Leave! NOW!" she bellowed. She could feel the tips of her fingers heating up, and the fire running through her veins.

"I can't leave until you let me."

Azula squeezed her eyes shut and hung her head, leaning heavily on the counter. Why couldn't she understand that she_ wanted _her to leave? She didn't want her, she didn't need her! Not anymore!

But when she opened her eyes, Ursa was still there, and now she was standing right behind her. Azula stared into the mirror. She hated how similar they looked. She hated it. She hated her.

She hated her for leaving the first time, and now she hated her for refusing to leave again.

"I love you, Azula. I always have. Please believe me."

Azula bared her teeth. She knew it wasn't true. She knew how her mother thought of her—as a monster. And maybe that's exactly what she had become. "I never loved you," she growled. Her tone was harsh and cold, completely detached, but her lip still quivered. She ducked her head.

It was a lie. But it was a lie that Azula wanted so desperately to believe. So she did.

There was no response. Azula didn't bother to look up; she knew Ursa was gone.

The young princess slid slowly down onto the floor until she was sitting on the cold stone. She pressed her forehead to the cabinet and inhaled deeply. She felt tears sting her eyes, but she refused to let them fall. She wouldn't cry. She would _never_ cry.

"I never loved you," she mumbled, her voice barely audible.

"I never loved you."


End file.
